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There I was on the Banks of the Ganges!

by Pat Flannery AKA the Kontinental Kid

 My best friend Fritz, also my best man at my wedding, and I were living in an old Whore house built back in the 30’s up near Pt Dume on Bonsall Cyn. Dr..  All the rooms were built around a horse shoe pool with asphalt parking for 50 outback. All five rooms had shower, bathtubs, washbasins in them.  I was working at Alice's Restaurant at the Malibu pier that summer and by the time fall rolled around the job was over. 

Fritz and I took off for a new adventure to Park City, UT which at the time was more of a hide out for guys on the lam from the law. It was still more of an old miner town that had petered put and the next generation of money came in to make what Park City is today. I think we both liked it when it was smaller. 

The ski season ended and I headed back to my roots in LA and landed in Santa Monica. Took a couple months but I found a job at Buffalo Chips. Apparently I was the first white guy in sometime to be hired as a cook by Jules B. Santos and Antonio and the other Mexican Mafia  guy, who cleaned up the place, use to unmercifully talk shit about me in Spanish. I never let on that I knew Spanish having worked in the garment district as a teenager and I really was broke and needed the job and said nothing until the last day as a cook. I told them to eat shit and die in Spanish, you should have seen their jaws drop hitting the ground. The way I said it to them let them know I really understood what they had been saying for months. After the immediate embarrassment on their part we did part friends but it was a lesson learned. 

I was hired on the bar after I told Jules I had cheese burgers chasing me in my dreams. If I would have known it was going to be that easy I would have spoken up earlier. That month I moved to a new apartment behind a house built in the 1890’s. Maybe apartment is being too kind it was a reconverted garage with dry wall giving the impression of two bedrooms, but hey Fritz and I were splitting a $125 a month rent including utilities living 2 blocks off the beach. Yea Baby!!

 Finally on the bar I stayed for 4 more years (75-79) seeing and living the things that make tall tales of high adventure and major bullshit come alive. You can’t make these stories up that happen right in front of you.

 I had a bet with a doorman after we had to dispatch an unruly customer, again being kind. The custom of  placing a choke hold till they lapsed into unconsciousness was the norm. Unceremoniously they were dispatched to the Dempsey dumpster out in the back parking lot and were gently floated down to the bottom of it. The bet was which bodily system would come back on first- sight- taste- hearing-smell. I won, it was smell! 

Ban the Bra night always brought out the worst of the worst and wall to wall but this one year it was a biker chick at the event , that I must say I have never witnessed again, she was standing at station 5 on the bar pulled out her breasts out and started hosing the crowd and hitting people 5 and 6 deep back from the bar. Many of our patrons had their mouths opened when they witnessed event. Wow! I had to start some personal assessment and psychological inventory after that one. That lasted 2 seconds and got back to pouring drinks. NEXT!! LOL 

One time 4 doorman couldn’t take this guy down and they kept telling me to get the hell out the way until I grabbed him by the cuff of his pants and it was eggs and shoes to the west for this dirt bag. Branch thought I was alright after that. Steve Bernard always said eggs and shoes to the west, put an egg in your shoe and beat it at closing.

Going down to Mexico with Scanlon for Clark to get Hawaiian shirts for all the bartenders, we end up in some dirt road bar and feeling very lucky to get the hell out of there with our clothes and money intact. 

Getting drunk with Scanlon 4 days a week, my first shooter with Danny Baralt, the legs of Barbie Carvis that went from… enough said, the fight at Jack in the Box with Scanlon and Baralt and getting a fire  canister unloaded on all of us. Going to the Mirror go Round after hours- Staying up all night with Smokey and Scanlon closing Sloans and starting up again at Rudy’s at 6 am. Jesus how did I survive. Going over the bar more times than I can remember. Grant Benetti in one of those fights couldn’t  get his tie off we cut it off. Next day I showed him my collection of break away ties, he was grateful on the other hand literally the bar back's hand I stood on was not as appreciative as his hand was caught between my foot and the electric burner for coffee. I could still see the burned rings a month later still embedded in hands a month later and I am sorry for the pain I caused. Putting the name Paddy Hurst on my name tag, the Paddy part stays with me even now.  

I met many great folks like Verlee and her kids, Rose Lee and DirtyCharlie Creel(stumpy), Jack and Don Kisch, “The Face “ Wendy from USC and meeting the Beach Boys, Barbie Carvis, Ann Michele, finally getting Luanne to say fuck you, riding horses with Tim Keene, Steve Bernard and Karen Rosen. Thank you Karen for taking care of little Paddy when major things went wrong around me. Please find me again  Jackie and I would love to see you again. I know none us will forget the beautiful soul of Katie- RIP. To my little buddy  Paul who had a motor home who made it possible to steal the USC sign from the Harbor freeway and who incidentally was the creator of the ‘dirt bag doll”. And where the hell is Scanlon???? 

I think that about covers it all for now. Sorry if I didn’t mention a few names( The Great Scott or The Hawk flies south for the winter ) and thanks for all of the memories of a few of the Tall Tales and High Adventures and Major Bullshit.


Pat (paddy) Flannery

Oar Stories  page 3